


brethren

by weefaol



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blasphemy, Come Marking, Dirty Talk, Dry Humping, Exhibitionism, Genderplay, Lolita Sam, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Religious Content, Rutting, Sibling Incest, Smut, Temptation, The Bible Told Me To, Weecest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-06
Updated: 2018-10-06
Packaged: 2019-07-25 20:16:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16204889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weefaol/pseuds/weefaol
Summary: The first book Sam Winchester ever read cover-to-cover was the King James Bible.He'd spent hours learning about Adam and Eve, the first man and first woman. God’s children. Sculpted siblings who’d lain with each other, sin and bone, in the garden of earthly delights.It was in the Bible where Sam had first gotten the idea.





	brethren

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings for Blasphemy, Sacrilege, and Profane Talk. 
> 
> (Religious nuts better skip this one. Pray for me.)

_In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth. Now the earth was formless and empty, darkness was over the surface of the deep, and the Spirit of God was hovering over the waters. And God said, “Let there be light,” and there was light._

The first book Sam Winchester ever read cover-to-cover was the King James Bible. The Good Book was the only book. It was always there — in every motel room from Spokane to Savannah, next to TV channel guides and blank notepads, from ramshackle deluges to the edges of nowhere. Leather-bound and bookmarked, red ribbon at its spine. Full of adventures, just like them.

Sam'd spent hours reading about the darkness and the light, about Noah’s arc and animals lined up two-by-two, and Adam and Eve, the first man and first woman. God’s children. Sculpted siblings who’d lain with each other, sin and bone, in the garden of earthly delights.

It was in the Bible where Sam had first gotten the idea.

Abraham and Sarah. Genesis 20:12 _._

_Besides, she is indeed my sister, the daughter of my father but not the daughter of my mother; and she became my wife._

“Dean…” Sam’d started one night when they were just kids, stuck bored and bratty in a rinky-dink motor lodge, curled under the covers as Dad coveted some midnight mating. “Do brothers ever kiss?”

Dean, fifteen and grown-up enough to know things about birds and bees that Sam could only ever dream of, snorted a laugh that rattled his ribcage. “No. It’s against the law. It’s incest.”

 _Incest_. The word prickled at Sam’s follicles, deep thrums in eardrums. _Incest. Like Winchest_. Hallowed and hereditary. Sinful enough to make his stomach flip. “Why’s it forbidden?”

Dean shifted, shrugged. “Because it’s… sick. When families fuck, their babies come out all weird.”

“Only girls have babies.”

“Yeah…” said Dean, trailing off.

That was four years ago. Now Sam’s fifteen, just like Dean had been. And he knows better. Knows all about kissing and girls and sex. Knows that that particular trinity doesn’t interest him in the slightest. And knows all too well that the nightly sight of nineteen-year-old Dean Winchester stepped forth from the shower — chest dewy with oil, towel swaddled loose around his waist till it fell like fig leaves — enraptures Sam. Gets him all lip-bitey, mouth-watery.

Sam’s got sin on the brain.

Tonight, he lies bored on a bed at the Bodewell Inn, fiddling with the silver chain around his neck — the one with the little hanging cross he’d nicked from an old antiques table at the Boone County fair. He smooths the charm back and forth along the chain while Dean sits in the motel chair opposite, brows scrunched trying to read a $0.35 _Star Trek_ novella. The TV is busted from the storm and there’s not much to do when Dad’s on a hunt.

After awhile, Sam emits a dreamy _sigh_ , trying to attract Dean’s attention. Ever-so-slightly spreads his gangly legs and presses the silver cross to his lips. Runs its grooves along soft pink, plays at it with his tongue, holds it there like Holy Eucharist.

Dean’s eyes flicker up twice, then back to his book. He shifts in his seat, clears his throat to refocus.

Sam's not one to be ignored. After a minute, he sighs and makes a display of turning over onto his belly. Puts his face in the pillow; lets his hand-me-down Judas Priest tee ride up along his waist as he stretches out, arms flush like a crucifix. Even facing the headboard, he can feel the weight of Dean’s eyes on him. Predestination.

“Hmmm,” Sam hums. Pushes his hips up, drags himself against the mattress. Ruts and grinds, breathing deep.

Dean snickers. “You horny, Sammy?”

Sam grins into the pillow. “Mm-hmm.”

“Ha. Tough to jerk off proper, all cooped up like this.”

Sam turns his head so his voice can be heard. To preach the gospel. “Hey, do you ever think about how God could’ve made us girls? Just a couple tweaks and I might’a had a pussy…”

“ _Jesus_ , Sam,” Dean exhales. Gets all hot under the collar. “What’re you doin’, thinking about stuff like that?”

Sam ruts, slow and sacramental, against the mattress. _Squeeeak, squeeeak._ “Maybe God doesn’t care what we do, as long as it doesn’t hurt anyone. Long as it feels good.” He brings his arms towards his hips, tucks his hands underneath and unfastens jeans. Inches the zipper down.

“Sammy…” says Dean, his voice trembling in warning. Final Judgment. “What’re you doing?”

“Nothing…” he hushes in that sing-song voice that makes Dean melt like butter. He pushes the front of his pants down, inch by inch, slow and messianic, until his teenaged cock starts to leak onto the bedsheets. Nudges back-pockets down bum-cheeks till cool air tickles his entrance. Presents himself to Dean — puckered, pink, and pure — and envisions the rose blush on big brother’s cheeks, watching him like this.

All Sam can hear as he humps and _ruts_ are soft, ragged breaths from across the room. Then, the quiet clink of a belt buckle, the rustle of worn out jeans, and a brother-shudder when palm meets dick. Cock-worship.

 _God_ , what Sam wouldn’t give to turn around. To witness it. Get on his knees and pray the mattress dips, warm breath ghosting at his hole, the lick and slide of tongue…

“Can’t I be a girl, Dean?” hushes Sam in a voice that makes Dean’s heart hitch. “Wouldn’t you want me like that?”

“ _Sam_ ,” Dean moans amidst skin on skin, the slippery _rub-rub-rub_ of friction slick. Then a frenzied, “Want — want you anyway.”

The words are a shot of divine adrenaline straight to Sam’s dick. Starts to shake and shiver, voice turns to tremble-words, “Gonna come, Dean.” He fucks against the mattress, aching and groaning, “Gonna _come_ …”

As Sam floods the sheets with pre-babies, all he can hear save the blood in his ears is heavy breathing and the scrape of motel chair legs. The floorboards groan with footsteps and pretty _slap-slap-slaps_ of flesh as Dean stands at the foot of the bed, desecrating himself at the sight of his little disciple losing control, all spread out and vulnerable.

“God, Sammy, wanna fuck your little ass…”

There’s a deep groan and a breathy shiver as Dean comes too, drizzling holy emanation over brother’s bare ass, like a covenant. Anointing and baptizing. Claiming what’s been rightfully his since before morality and piety hammered barriers between them. Before they knew what brotherhood really meant.

It takes awhile to catch their breaths. When they do, Dean hides himself away, atones in the shower for half-an-hour while Sam twitches on the bed. Lets fraternal sin dry on his skin before crawling under the covers they’ll both share that night.

Before he sleeps, he reads. Reaches in the bedside drawer for John’s 4:21 testament.

_And He has given us this command: Anyone who loves God must also love their brother._

**Author's Note:**

> find more of my wolfy tales on [tumblr](http://weefaol.tumblr.com/) ❤︎


End file.
